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Während Ludwig XIV. rauschende Feste feiert, lebt das Volk in Hunger und Elend. Der Sonnenkönig hat ein furchtbares Geheimnis: in einem finsteren Verlies hält er seinen Zwillingsbruder gefangen - das Gesicht hinter einer eisernen Maske verborgen. Der Mann in der eisernen Maske (Originaltitel: The Man in the Iron Mask) ist ein US-amerikanisch-britisch-französischer Mantel-und-Degen-Film aus dem Jahr. spytechnics.eu - Kaufen Sie The Man in the Iron Mask günstig ein. Qualifizierte Bestellungen werden kostenlos geliefert. Sie finden Rezensionen und Details zu. 1h 50m The Man in the Iron Mask. Overview; Synopsis; Credits; Photos & Videos; Film Details; Awards; Articles & Reviews; Quotes; Trivia; Notes. The Man in the Iron Mask, Return to Mega Movie Pages Plus role d'Artagnan production Directed and written by Randall Wallace. The Man In The Iron Mask book. Read 4 reviews from the world's largest community for readers. Should D'Artagnan keep his promise and protect the headstro. Many translated example sentences containing "the man in the iron mask" – German-English dictionary and search engine for German translations.
Leonardo DiCaprio was somewhat uneven in his performance but he was good on the whole, personally I felt he was better as Phillippe in alternative to Louis, he never quite convinced me playing an arrogant king whereas he succeeded with Phillippe because of that spontaneous boyish charm he has.
However, the film is a little too long and the pacing is also uneven, I felt the film dragged in the middle and then it felt a tad rushed at the end.
While the story is solid enough and sticks relatively faithful to the story, which is brilliant on a side note to those not familiar with it, it can get implausible with one or two soap-opera-ish qualities about it.
Finally, the script does have one too many weak spots, one or two parts are a little too cheesy for my liking. On the whole though, this is an above average and fun film.
Maybe not the best for those who adore the book, but as an introduction to the story it is good enough. Looking for some great streaming picks?
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Trailers and Videos. Crazy Credits. Alternate Versions. Rate This. Can the twin be substituted for the real king?
Director: Randall Wallace. Writers: Alexandre Dumas novels , Randall Wallace screenplay. Available on Amazon. Added to Watchlist.
From metacritic. Use the HTML below. You must be a registered user to use the IMDb rating plugin. Which set of siblings played by the same person is done best?
Just the two of us Aramis John Malkovich Porthos as Gerard Depardieu Gabriel Byrne D'Artagnan Anne Parillaud Christine as Judith Godreche Edward Atterton Lieutenant Andre Peter Sarsgaard Raoul Hugh Laurie King's Advisor David Lowe King's Advisor Brigitte Boucher Company Credits.
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D'Artagnan and his fellow Musketeers plot to replace the ineffectual Louis XIV of France with his secretly imprisoned twin brother Phillipe, who is the firstborn and rightful King.
Director: Mike Newell. Writers: William Bast screenplay , Alexandre Dumas based on the novel by. Available on Amazon. Added to Watchlist.
Stars of the s, Then and Now. The Best Iron Mask. Use the HTML below. You must be a registered user to use the IMDb rating plugin. Louis Jourdan, RIP.
The Best Iron Mask Just the two of us Nominated for 2 Primetime Emmys. Edit Cast Cast overview, first billed only: Richard Chamberlain Fouquet Louis Jourdan D'Artagnan Jenny Agutter Louise Ian Holm Duval Ralph Richardson Colbert Vivien Merchant Maria Theresa Brenda Bruce Anne of Austria Esmond Knight Armand Godfrey Quigley Baisemeaux Emrys James Percerin Denis Lawson Claude Ann Zelda Henriette as Anne Zelda Hugh Fraser
And although "The Man In The Iron Mask' made over $ million dollars at the worldwide box office, it was overshadowed by the once in a lifetime experience. Unknown - Glennie - Smith: The Man in the Iron Mask [SOUNDTRACK] - Amazon.com Music. The Man in the Iron Mask (French: L'Homme au Masque de Fer) is a name given to a prisoner arrested as Eustache Dauger in or , and held in a. Englisch-Deutsch-Übersetzungen für The Man in the Iron Mask im Online-Wörterbuch spytechnics.eu (Deutschwörterbuch). 
The Man In The Iron Mask Who was Lady Godiva? Video
The Man in the Iron Mask (2/12) Movie CLIP - Philippe Is Freed From the Iron Mask (1998) HD Baisemeaux brings Aramis to a prison cell where the latter is to hear the confession of a prisoner. Along the way, they encounter a beautiful young spy, Rtl Heute simply Milady, who will stop Arrow Serien Stream nothing to disgrace Queen Anne of Austria before her husband, Louis XIII, and take her revenge upon the four friends. Edit Storyline Paris is starving, but the King of France is more interested in money and bedding women. Chapter XLIV. All that is really noble and really useful Brickleberry Serien Stream this world will find its account therein. The young man seemed as if he were going to give Aramis his hand; but the light which beamed in his eyes faded Best Of Me Stream, and he coldly and distrustfully withdrew his hand again. The king has Diabolisch Film more than obvious about his affections for Louise, and Madame, the queen-mother, and the queen join forces to destroy her. But when his plan begins to backfire more than just Aramis will pay for his avarice. View 1 comment. Alexander Dumas' thrilling tale of one man's struggle with the conscience take us into 17th century France and examines the lives of people in power and those at their mercy Alexander Dumas' thrilling tale of one man's struggle with the conscience take us Lily Was Here 17th century France and examines the lives of people in power and those at Should D'Artagnan keep his promise Playstation Store Deutschland protect the headstrong and selfish King Louis or should he do what Traumfänger right for France and put Philippe on the throne? Details if other :. The politics and scheming are fascinating Equilibrium Stream German are the characters. Linda Corbett rated it really liked it Feb 26, It was a happy moment for the City Of Angels it was an unhappy moment for M. Aramis breathed again, and smiled. His distress and his exclamations were interrupted by a signal which had been given from the summit of the mansion. InKing Louis's sister-in-law, Elizabeth Charlotte, Princess Palatinesent a letter to her aunt, Sophia, Electress of Hanoverstating that the prisoner had "two musketeers at his side to kill him if Netflix.De Login removed his mask". But I do more than love M. Is a prison the fit place?I am convinced that, when arrived at the summit, you will judge me still more worthy to be your friend; and then, monseigneur, we two will do such great deeds, that ages hereafter shall long speak of them.
In keeping you near him, as Monsieur has been kept—Monsieur, your younger brother—the king reserved to himself the right of being legitimate sovereign.
The doctors only could dispute his legitimacy. But the doctors always prefer the king who is to the king who is not.
Providence has willed that you should be persecuted; this persecution to-day consecrates you king of France. You had, then, a right to reign, seeing that it is disputed; you had a right to be proclaimed seeing that you have been concealed; and you possess royal blood, since no one has dared to shed yours, as that of your servants has been shed.
Now see, then, what this Providence, which you have so often accused of having in every way thwarted you, has done for you. It has given you the features, figure, age, and voice of your brother; and the very causes of your persecution are about to become those of your triumphant restoration.
To-morrow, after to-morrow—from the very first, regal phantom, living shade of Louis XIV. What did he do to conceal it?
He concealed you. Living image of himself, you will defeat the conspiracy of Mazarin and Anne of Austria. You, my prince, will have the same interest in concealing him, who will, as a prisoner, resemble you, as you will resemble him as a king.
Who else knows it? All that is really noble and really useful in this world will find its account therein. Every scheme of this caliber is completed by its results, like a geometrical calculation.
The king, in prison, will not be for you the cause of embarrassment that you have been for the king enthroned. His soul is naturally proud and impatient; it is, moreover, disarmed and enfeebled, by being accustomed to honors, and by the license of supreme power.
The same Providence which has willed that the concluding step in the geometrical calculation I have had the honor of describing to your royal highness should be your ascension to the throne, and the destruction of him who is hurtful to you, has also determined that the conquered one shall soon end both his own and your sufferings.
Therefore, his soul and body have been adapted for but a brief agony. Put into prison as a private individual, left alone with your doubts, deprived of everything, you have exhibited the most sublime, enduring principle of life in withstanding all this.
But your brother, a captive, forgotten, and in bonds, will not long endure the calamity; and Heaven will resume his soul at the appointed time—that is to say, soon.
Have I brought out of the solution according to the wishes or the foresight of your royal highness? Let us speak of the causes which may bring about the ruin of all the hopes we have conceived.
Let us speak of the risks we are running. There is no danger either for you or for me, if the constancy and intrepidity of your royal highness are equal to that perfection of resemblance to your brother which nature has bestowed upon you.
I repeat it, there are no dangers, only obstacles; a word, indeed, which I find in all languages, but have always ill-understood, and, were I king, would have obliterated as useless and absurd.
You are right, too, for that, indeed, is an immense obstacle. The horse afraid of the ditch, leaps into the middle of it, and is killed!
The man who trembling crosses his sword with that of another leaves loopholes whereby his enemy has him in his power.
The young man sank into so profound a silence, that the mere sound of his respiration seemed like a roaring tumult for Aramis.
Monseigneur, I have your happiness spread out before me in my thoughts; listen to my words; precious they indeed are, in their import and their sense, for you who look with such tender regard upon the bright heavens, the verdant meadows, the pure air.
I know a country instinct with delights of every kind, an unknown paradise, a secluded corner of the world—where alone, unfettered and unknown, in the thick covert of the woods, amidst flowers, and streams of rippling water, you will forget all the misery that human folly has so recently allotted you.
I do not jest. I have a heart, and mind, and soul, and can read your own,—aye, even to its depths. I will not take you unready for your task, in order to cast you into the crucible of my own desires, of my caprice, or my ambition.
Let it be all or nothing. For me, that is a certain and unmistakable sign that you do not wish to continue at liberty. Would you prefer a more humble life, a life more suited to your strength?
Heaven is my witness, that I wish your happiness to be the result of the trial to which I have exposed you. Twenty leagues of country is immense, is it not?
Twenty leagues, monseigneur, all covered with water and herbage, and reeds of the most luxuriant nature; the whole studded with islands covered with woods of the densest foliage.
A few fishermen with their families indolently pass their lives away there, with their great living-rafts of poplar and alder, the flooring formed of reeds, and the roof woven out of thick rushes.
These barks, these floating-houses, are wafted to and fro by the changing winds. Whenever they touch a bank, it is but by chance; and so gently, too, that the sleeping fisherman is not awakened by the shock.
Should he wish to land, it is merely because he has seen a large flight of landrails or plovers, of wild ducks, teal, widgeon, or woodchucks, which fall an easy pray to net or gun.
Silver shad, eels, greedy pike, red and gray mullet, swim in shoals into his nets; he has but to choose the finest and largest, and return the others to the waters.
Never yet has the food of the stranger, be he soldier or simple citizen, never has any one, indeed, penetrated into that district. Once a week, a boat is sent to deliver the bread which has been baked at an oven—the common property of all.
There—like the seigneurs of early days—powerful in virtue of your dogs, your fishing-lines, your guns, and your beautiful reed-built house, would you live, rich in the produce of the chase, in plentitude of absolute secrecy.
There would years of your life roll away, at the end of which, no longer recognizable, for you would have been perfectly transformed, you would have succeeded in acquiring a destiny accorded to you by Heaven.
There are a thousand pistoles in this bag, monseigneur—more, far more, than sufficient to purchase the whole marsh of which I have spoken; more than enough to live there as many years as you have days to live; more than enough to constitute you the richest, the freest, and the happiest man in the country.
Accept it, as I offer it you—sincerely, cheerfully. I shall have made one human being happy; and Heaven for that will hold me in better account than if I had made one man powerful; the former task is far more difficult.
And now, monseigneur, your answer to this proposition? Here is the money. Nay, do not hesitate. At Poitou, you can risk nothing, except the chance of catching the fevers prevalent there; and even of them, the so-called wizards of the country will cure you, for the sake of your pistoles.
If you play the other game, you run the chance of being assassinated on a throne, strangled in a prison-cell.
Upon my soul, I assure you, now I begin to compare them together, I myself should hesitate which lot I should accept. Ten minutes is all I ask, and then you shall have your answer.
Aramis was the first to descend from the carriage; he held the door open for the young man. He saw him place his foot on the mossy ground with a trembling of the whole body, and walk round the carriage with an unsteady and almost tottering step.
The extremities of the avenues were imperceptibly detached from the copse, by a lighter shadow of opaque gray, which, upon closer examination, became visible in the midst of the obscurity.
But the fragrance which ascended from the grass, fresher and more penetrating than that which exhaled from the trees around him; the warm and balmy air which enveloped him for the first time for many years past; the ineffable enjoyment of liberty in an open country, spoke to the prince in so seductive a language, that notwithstanding the preternatural caution, we would almost say dissimulation of his character, of which we have tried to give an idea, he could not restrain his emotion, and breathed a sigh of ecstasy.
Then, by degrees, he raised his aching head and inhaled the softly scented air, as it was wafted in gentle gusts to his uplifted face.
Crossing his arms on his chest, as if to control this new sensation of delight, he drank in delicious draughts of that mysterious air which interpenetrates at night the loftiest forests.
The sky he was contemplating, the murmuring waters, the universal freshness—was not all this reality?
Was not Aramis a madman to suppose that he had aught else to dream of in this world? Those exciting pictures of country life, so free from fears and troubles, the ocean of happy days that glitters incessantly before all young imaginations, are real allurements wherewith to fascinate a poor, unhappy prisoner, worn out by prison cares, emaciated by the stifling air of the Bastile.
It was the picture, it will be remembered, drawn by Aramis, when he offered the thousand pistoles he had with him in the carriage to the prince, and the enchanted Eden which the deserts of Bas-Poitou hid from the eyes of the world.
Such were the reflections of Aramis as he watched, with an anxiety impossible to describe, the silent progress of the emotions of Philippe, whom he perceived gradually becoming more and more absorbed in his meditations.
The young prince was offering up an inward prayer to Heaven, to be divinely guided in this trying moment, upon which his life or death depended.
It was an anxious time for the bishop of Vannes, who had never before been so perplexed. His iron will, accustomed to overcome all obstacles, never finding itself inferior or vanquished on any occasion, to be foiled in so vast a project from not having foreseen the influence which a view of nature in all its luxuriance would have on the human mind!
This suspense lasted the whole ten minutes which the young man had requested. During this space of time, which appeared an eternity, Philippe continued gazing with an imploring and sorrowful look towards the heavens; Aramis did not remove the piercing glance he had fixed on Philippe.
Suddenly the young man bowed his head. His thought returned to the earth, his looks perceptibly hardened, his brow contracted, his mouth assuming an expression of undaunted courage; again his looks became fixed, but this time they wore a worldly expression, hardened by covetousness, pride, and strong desire.
Philippe, seizing his hand in a quick, agitated manner, exclaimed:. Philippe did not even deign to reply. He gazed earnestly at the bishop, as if to ask him if it were possible for a man to waver after having once made up his mind.
I wished to discuss two points with you; in the first place the dangers, or the obstacles we may meet with. That point is decided. The other is the conditions you intend imposing on me.
It is your turn to speak, M. You will not allow so mere a trifle to stop me, and you will not do me the injustice to suppose that I think you have no interest in this affair.
Pardon me, but I may venture to ask that question of a poor, abandoned captive of the Bastile? You will then be in full possession of liberty and power.
I know her—I know her. Monsieur, my brother, is a fine, dark young man, with a pale face; he does not love his wife, Henrietta, whom I, Louis XIV.
The eyes of a woman who loves are not easily deceived. She halts slightly in her gait; she writes a letter every day, to which I have to send an answer by M.
Do you intend to ask me to exile him also? He is a bold and enterprising man. Now tell me about M. Fouquet; what do you wish to be done with regard to him?
Fouquet, I should very much regret forgetting another friend of mine. Be easy on that score. I shall know how to rehabilitate his happiness.
Can a man ever forgive the woman who has betrayed him? Is that a French custom, or is it one of the laws of the human heart? Have you anything further to say about your friend?
But that is a matter of very trifling moment; you would not offend me if you were to ask more than that, and you would cause me serious regret if you were to limit yourself to that.
Fouquet will not keep long at the head of affairs, he will soon get old. He is fond of pleasure, consistently, I mean, with all his labors, thanks to the youthfulness he still retains; but this protracted youth will disappear at the approach of the first serious annoyance, or at the first illness he may experience.
We will spare him the annoyance, because he is an agreeable and noble-hearted man; but we cannot save him from ill-health.
So it is determined. When you shall have paid all M. Fouquet will be able to remain the sovereign ruler in his little court of poets and painters,—we shall have made him rich.
Besides, our friendship ought never to be, I do not say impaired, but in any degree affected, by a secret thought. I shall have given you the throne of France, you will confer on me the throne of St.
Whenever your loyal, firm, and mailed hand should joined in ties of intimate association the hand of a pope such as I shall be, neither Charles V.
I have no alliances, I have no predilections; I will not throw you into persecutions of heretics, nor will I cast you into the troubled waters of family dissension; I will simply say to you: The whole universe is our own; for me the minds of men, for you their bodies.
And as I shall be the first to die, you will have my inheritance. What do you say of my plan, monseigneur? You can ask what guarantees from me you please.
Never shall I act except in such a manner that you will be the gainer; I shall never ascend the ladder of fortune, fame, or position, until I have first seen you placed upon the round of the ladder immediately above me; I shall always hold myself sufficiently aloof from you to escape incurring your jealousy, sufficiently near to sustain your personal advantage and to watch over your friendship.
All the contracts in the world are easily violated because the interests included in them incline more to one side than to another.
With us, however, this will never be the case; I have no need of any guarantees. We will remove him from his bed by means of a plank which yields to the pressure of the finger.
Having retired to rest a crowned sovereign, he will awake a captive. Alone you will rule from that moment, and you will have no interest dearer and better than that of keeping me near you.
We will embrace each other on the day we shall have upon our temples, you the crown, I the tiara. Aramis was almost overcome as he listened to his voice; he fancied he detected in his own heart an emotion hitherto unknown; but this impression was speedily removed.
And they resumed their places in the carriage, which sped rapidly along the road leading to Vaux-le-Vicomte. The chateau of Vaux-le-Vicomte, situated about a league from Melun, had been built by Fouquet in , at a time when there was a scarcity of money in France; Mazarin had taken all that there was, and Fouquet expended the remainder.
However, as certain men have fertile, false, and useful vices, Fouquet, in scattering broadcast millions of money in the construction of this palace, had found a means of gathering, as the result of his generous profusion, three illustrious men together: Levau, the architect of the building; Lenotre, the designer of the gardens; and Lebrun, the decorator of the apartments.
If the Chateau de Vaux possessed a single fault with which it could be reproached, it was its grand, pretentious character. It is even at the present day proverbial to calculate the number of acres of roofing, the restoration of which would, in our age, be the ruin of fortunes cramped and narrowed as the epoch itself.
Vaux-le-Vicomte, when its magnificent gates, supported by caryatides, have been passed through, has the principal front of the main building opening upon a vast, so-called, court of honor, inclosed by deep ditches, bordered by a magnificent stone balustrade.
Nothing could be more noble in appearance than the central forecourt raised upon the flight of steps, like a king upon his throne, having around it four pavilions at the angles, the immense Ionic columns of which rose majestically to the whole height of the building.
The friezes ornamented with arabesques, and the pediments which crowned the pilasters, conferred richness and grace on every part of the building, while the domes which surmounted the whole added proportion and majesty.
This mansion, built by a subject, bore a far greater resemblance to those royal residences which Wolsey fancied he was called upon to construct, in order to present them to his master from the fear of rendering him jealous.
But if magnificence and splendor were displayed in any one particular part of this palace more than another,—if anything could be preferred to the wonderful arrangement of the interior, to the sumptuousness of the gilding, and to the profusion of the paintings and statues, it would be the park and gardens of Vaux.
Lenotre had hastened the pleasure of the Maecenas of his period; all the nursery-grounds had furnished trees whose growth had been accelerated by careful culture and the richest plant-food.
Every tree in the neighborhood which presented a fair appearance of beauty or stature had been taken up by its roots and transplanted to the park. Fouquet could well afford to purchase trees to ornament his park, since he had bought up three villages and their appurtenances to use a legal word to increase its extent.
Fouquet had divided a river into a thousand fountains, and gathered the waters of a thousand fountains into torrents.
This magnificent palace had been got ready for the reception of the greatest reigning sovereign of the time.
The cascades, somewhat rebellious nymphs though they were, poured forth their waters brighter and clearer than crystal: they scattered over the bronze triton and nereids their waves of foam, which glistened like fire in the rays of the sun.
An army of servants were hurrying to and fro in squadrons in the courtyard and corridors; while Fouquet, who had only that morning arrived, walked all through the palace with a calm, observant glance, in order to give his last orders, after his intendants had inspected everything.
It was, as we have said, the 15th of August. Oh, fame! Oh, blazon of renown! Oh, glory of this earth! That very man whose judgment was so sound and accurate where merit was concerned—he who had swept into his coffers the inheritance of Nicholas Fouquet, who had robbed him of Lenotre and Lebrun, and had sent him to rot for the remainder of his life in one of the state prisons—merely remembered the peaches of that vanquished, crushed, forgotten enemy!
It was to little purpose that Fouquet had squandered thirty millions of francs in the fountains of his gardens, in the crucibles of his sculptors, in the writing-desks of his literary friends, in the portfolios of his painters; vainly had he fancied that thereby he might be remembered.
A peach—a blushing, rich-flavored fruit, nestling in the trellis work on the garden-wall, hidden beneath its long, green leaves,—this little vegetable production, that a dormouse would nibble up without a thought, was sufficient to recall to the memory of this great monarch the mournful shade of the last surintendant of France.
With a perfect reliance that Aramis had made arrangements fairly to distribute the vast number of guests throughout the palace, and that he had not omitted to attend to any of the internal regulations for their comfort, Fouquet devoted his entire attention to the ensemble alone.
In one direction Gourville showed him the preparations which had been made for the fireworks; in another, Moliere led him over the theater; at last, after he had visited the chapel, the salons , and the galleries, and was again going downstairs, exhausted with fatigue, Fouquet saw Aramis on the staircase.
The prelate beckoned to him. The surintendant joined his friend, and, with him, paused before a large picture scarcely finished.
Applying himself, heart and soul, to his work, the painter Lebrun, covered with perspiration, stained with paint, pale from fatigue and the inspiration of genius, was putting the last finishing touches with his rapid brush.
It was the portrait of the king, whom they were expecting, dressed in the court suit which Percerin had condescended to show beforehand to the bishop of Vannes.
Fouquet placed himself before this portrait, which seemed to live, as one might say, in the cool freshness of its flesh, and in its warmth of color.
The surintendant, by this action, had utterly ruined a suit of clothes worth a thousand pistoles, but he had satisfied, more than satisfied, Lebrun.
It was a happy moment for the artist; it was an unhappy moment for M. His distress and his exclamations were interrupted by a signal which had been given from the summit of the mansion.
In the direction of Melun, in the still empty, open plain, the sentinels of Vaux had just perceived the advancing procession of the king and the queens.
His majesty was entering Melun with his long train of carriages and cavaliers. Assume a cheerful countenance, for it should be a day of true rejoicing.
What an idea to condemn yourself to a room where you cannot stir or move about! I find my reader quite sufficient. Adieu, monseigneur; do not overfatigue yourself; keep yourself fresh for the arrival of the king.
And Fouquet, bowing, with a smile, passed on like a commander-in-chief who pays the different outposts a visit after the enemy has been signaled in sight.
The king had, in point of fact, entered Melun with the intention of merely passing through the city. The youthful monarch was most eagerly anxious for amusements; only twice during the journey had he been able to catch a glimpse of La Valliere, and, suspecting that his only opportunity of speaking to her would be after nightfall, in the gardens, and after the ceremonial of reception had been gone through, he had been very desirous to arrive at Vaux as early as possible.
But he reckoned without his captain of the musketeers, and without M. So long as Aramis continued a soldier, there was hope of getting the better of him; but since he has covered his cuirass with a stole, we are lost.
And what else can he be after? He, at first, thought of talking the matter over with Colbert, but his friendship for Aramis, the oath of earlier days, bound him too strictly.
He revolted at the bare idea of such a thing, and, besides, he hated the financier too cordially. Then, again, he wished to unburden his mind to the king; but yet the king would not be able to understand the suspicions which had not even a shadow of reality at their base.
He resolved to address himself to Aramis, direct, the first time he met him. Yes, he will tell me something, for mordioux! It might almost have been called a small army.
Colbert looked at the troops with great delight: he even wished they had been a third more in number. When this little army appeared before Melun, the chief magistrates came out to meet the king, and to present him with the keys of the city, and invited him to enter the Hotel de Ville, in order to partake of the wine of honor.
The king, who expected to pass through the city and to proceed to Vaux without delay, became quite red in the face from vexation.
Was I right? Yes; his majesty said that the man who had thought of the vin de Melun was something of the sort. Where the deuce did you get hold of that idea, Monsieur Colbert?
You have no luck. I, who do not pretend to be a financier, saw only one idea in your idea. Fouquet, who is making himself quite giddy on his donjons yonder, in waiting for us.
This was a home-stroke, hard enough in all conscience. Colbert was completely thrown out of the saddle by it, and retired, thoroughly discomfited.
Fortunately, the speech was now at an end; the king drank the wine which was presented to him, and then every one resumed the progress through the city.
The king bit his lips in anger, for the evening was closing in, and all hope of a walk with La Valliere was at an end.
The king, therefore, who was boiling with impatience, hurried forward as much as possible, in order to reach it before nightfall.
But, at the moment he was setting off again, other and fresh difficulties arose. On the other hand, he felt that these delays would irritate that impatient monarch beyond measure.
In what way could he possibly reconcile these difficulties? Colbert has been asking me if your majesty does not intend to sleep at Melun. What for?
Fouquet is expecting us this evening? They were fatigued, and would have preferred to go to rest without proceeding any farther; more especially, in order to prevent the king walking about in the evening with M.
It will easily be conjectured that all these rival interests, gathering together in vapors, necessarily produced clouds, and that the clouds were likely to be followed by a tempest.
The king had no mustache to gnaw, and therefore kept biting the handle of his whip instead, with ill-concealed impatience.
How could he get out of it? Who was there he could get in a passion with? The king looked at him. Fouquet, leave my escort behind me; I should go to him as a friend; I should enter accompanied only by my captain of the guards; I should consider that I was acting more nobly, and should be invested with a still more sacred character by doing so.
We will go to see a friend as friends; the gentlemen who are with the carriages can go slowly: but we who are mounted will ride on. And then, M.
Fouquet is a man of honor. I have said so, and it must be so. They were received by Madame Fouquet, and at the moment they made their appearance, a light as bright as day burst forth from every quarter, trees, vases, and marble statues.
This species of enchantment lasted until their majesties had retired into the palace. All these wonders and magical effects which the chronicler has heaped up, or rather embalmed, in his recital, at the risk of rivaling the brain-born scenes of romancers; these splendors whereby night seemed vanquished and nature corrected, together with every delight and luxury combined for the satisfaction of all the senses, as well as the imagination, Fouquet did in real truth offer to his sovereign in that enchanting retreat of which no monarch could at that time boast of possessing an equal.
We do not intend to describe the grand banquet, at which the royal guests were present, nor the concerts, nor the fairy-like and more than magic transformations and metamorphoses; it will be enough for our purpose to depict the countenance the king assumed, which, from being gay, soon wore a very gloomy, constrained, and irritated expression.
He remembered his own residence, royal though it was, and the mean and indifferent style of luxury that prevailed there, which comprised but little more than what was merely useful for the royal wants, without being his own personal property.
The large vases of the Louvre, the older furniture and plate of Henry II. Fouquet ate from a gold service, which artists in his own employ had modeled and cast for him alone.
Fouquet drank wines of which the king of France did not even know the name, and drank them out of goblets each more valuable than the entire royal cellar.
What, too, was to be said of the apartments, the hangings, the pictures, the servants and officers, of every description, of his household?
What of the mode of service in which etiquette was replaced by order; stiff formality by personal, unrestrained comfort; the happiness and contentment of the guest became the supreme law of all who obeyed the host?
The perfect swarm of busily engaged persons moving about noiselessly; the multitude of guests,—who were, however, even less numerous than the servants who waited on them,—the myriad of exquisitely prepared dishes, of gold and silver vases; the floods of dazzling light, the masses of unknown flowers of which the hot-houses had been despoiled, redundant with luxuriance of unequaled scent and beauty; the perfect harmony of the surroundings, which, indeed, was no more than the prelude of the promised fete , charmed all who were there; and they testified their admiration over and over again, not by voice or gesture, but by deep silence and rapt attention, those two languages of the courtier which acknowledge the hand of no master powerful enough to restrain them.
As for the king, his eyes filled with tears; he dared not look at the queen. Anne of Austria, whose pride was superior to that of any creature breathing, overwhelmed her host by the contempt with which she treated everything handed to her.
The young queen, kind-hearted by nature and curious by disposition, praised Fouquet, ate with an exceedingly good appetite, and asked the names of the strange fruits as they were placed upon the table.
Fouquet replied that he was not aware of their names. The fruits came from his own stores; he had often cultivated them himself, having an intimate acquaintance with the cultivation of exotic fruits and plants.
The king felt and appreciated the delicacy of the replies, but was only the more humiliated; he thought the queen a little too familiar in her manners, and that Anne of Austria resembled Juno a little too much, in being too proud and haughty; his chief anxiety, however, was himself, that he might remain cold and distant in his behavior, bordering lightly the limits of supreme disdain or simple admiration.
But Fouquet had foreseen all this; he was, in fact, one of those men who foresee everything. Louis had no excuse—he, indeed, who had the keenest appetite in his kingdom—for saying that he was not hungry.
Nay, M. The disdain of Juno and the sulky fits of temper of Jupiter could not resist this excess of kindly feeling and polite attention.
The queen ate a biscuit dipped in a glass of San-Lucar wine; and the king ate of everything, saying to M. As soon, however, as his hunger was appeased, the king became morose and overgloomed again; the more so in proportion to the satisfaction he fancied he had previously manifested, and particularly on account of the deferential manner which his courtiers had shown towards Fouquet.
When the supper was finished, the king expressed a wish not to lose the promenade. The park was illuminated; the moon, too, as if she had placed herself at the orders of the lord of Vaux, silvered the trees and lake with her own bright and quasi-phosphorescent light.
The air was strangely soft and balmy; the daintily shell-gravelled walks through the thickly set avenues yielded luxuriously to the feet.
Fouquet, who preceded him. The dreamy night of magical enchantments stole smoothly on. The king having requested to be shown to his room, there was immediately a movement in every direction.
The queens passed to their own apartments, accompanied by them music of theorbos and lutes; the king found his musketeers awaiting him on the grand flight of steps, for M.
Fouquet had brought them on from Melun and had invited them to supper. He was weary, he had supped well, and wished, for once in his life, thoroughly to enjoy a fete given by a man who was in every sense of the word a king.
The king was conducted with the greatest ceremony to the chamber of Morpheus, of which we owe some cursory description to our readers.
It was the handsomest and largest in the palace. Lebrun had painted on the vaulted ceiling the happy as well as the unhappy dreams which Morpheus inflicts on kings as well as on other men.
Everything that sleep gives birth to that is lovely, its fairy scenes, its flowers and nectar, the wild voluptuousness or profound repose of the senses, had the painter elaborated on his frescoes.
It was a composition as soft and pleasing in one part as dark and gloomy and terrible in another.
The poisoned chalice, the glittering dagger suspended over the head of the sleeper; wizards and phantoms with terrific masks, those half-dim shadows more alarming than the approach of fire or the somber face of midnight, these, and such as these, he had made the companions of his more pleasing pictures.
No sooner had the king entered his room than a cold shiver seemed to pass through him, and on Fouquet asking him the cause of it, the king replied, as pale as death:.
Colbert I wish to see him. After having inquired for Aramis, he had looked for him in every direction until he had succeeded in finding him.
Aramis came forward to embrace his friend, and offered him the best seat. As it was after awhile generally remarked among those present that the musketeer was reserved, and wished for an opportunity for conversing secretly with Aramis, the Epicureans took their leave.
Porthos, however, did not stir; for true it is that, having dined exceedingly well, he was fast asleep in his armchair; and the freedom of conversation therefore was not interrupted by a third person.
Porthos had a deep, harmonious snore, and people might talk in the midst of its loud bass without fear of disturbing him. Fouquet, but that his majesty grew much more cordial afterwards.
Aramis breathed again, and smiled. Colbert who turned that pretty phrase. Colbert will be minister in four months?
Have you not remarked M. Why was it necessary to have new liveries and costumes for your whole household? I told M. Fouquet that myself; he replied, that if he were rich enough he would offer the king a newly erected chateau, from the vanes at the houses to the very sub-cellars; completely new inside and out; and that, as soon as the king had left, he would burn the whole building and its contents, in order that it might not be made use of by any one else.
The shaft was discharged, and all he had to do was to wait and watch its effect. One favor, then. Tell me the exact truth; you would not like anything disagreeable to happen to me, would you?
What suspicion can you have possibly got hold of? Formerly you used to have faith in them. Well, then, an instinct tells me that you have some concealed project on foot.
Is it likely, if I have any project in hand that I ought to keep secret from you, I should tell you about it?
If I had one that I could and ought to have revealed, should I not have long ago divulged it? There are certain projects which are never revealed until the favorable opportunity arrives.
Here is a man who, if I were but to ask it, would suffer himself to be cut in pieces for my sake. Friendship, I repeat, is nothing but an unsubstantial shadow—a lure, like everything else in this bright, dazzling world.
What an affecting relic of the former dear old times! If I ever suspect you, it is on account of others, and not on account of either of us.
In everything I may do, and should happen to succeed in, you will find your fourth. Will you promise me the same favor?
If that be all, mordioux , tell me so at once. I have the instrument in my own hand, and will pull out the tooth easily enough.
Aramis could not conceal a smile of disdain that flitted over his haughty features. Aramis, we are not enemies, remember—we are brothers.
It is the king you are conspiring against. I do not see what any one can do to a legitimate king as ours is, if he does not assassinate him. The earnestness of his words, the studied slowness with which he pronounced them, the solemnity of his oath, gave the musketeer the most complete satisfaction.
Aramis had endured reproaches without turning pale, and had blushed as he listened to words of praise. Duty summons me. I have to get the watch-word.
Where does Porthos sleep? What a lucky chance! Oh, yes—true; I have forgotten; I am at the fete at Vaux. Do not forget, therefore, that my flooring is merely the covering of his ceiling.
Good night, my friends, and in ten minutes I shall be asleep myself. If he sees, when it is too late, he is a Gascon, and will never admit that he has been deceived.
Can you see? Aramis looked through the opening in the flooring. Oh, monseigneur! We have seen that Louis XIV. The conversation began between them by the king according to him one of the highest favors that he had ever done; it was true the king was alone with his subject.
The intendant, overcome with delight, for he feared he was about to be dismissed, refused this unprecedented honor.
Yes, you knew it, and there was courage in the doing of it. Fouquet has given me too good a meal. Tell me, Colbert, where does he get all the money required for this enormous expenditure,—can you tell?
Fouquet, therefore, is rich—very rich, and I suppose every man knows he is so. You are about to be a witness of one of those scenes which the foul fiend alone conceives and executes.
Listen attentively,—you will find your advantage in it. The prince redoubled his attention, and saw Louis XIV. Well, these thirteen millions are wanting to balance the total of the account.
That is what I do not very well understand. How was this deficit possible? Mazarin indicates the employment of that sum and the name of the person with whom it was deposited?
Fouquet has not yet restored the thirteen millions. Fouquet has not yet given back the thirteen millions, he must have appropriated them to his own purpose; and with those thirteen millions one could incur four times and a little more as much expense, and make four times as great a display, as your majesty was able to do at Fontainebleau, where we only spent three millions altogether, if you remember.
For a blunderer, the souvenir he had evoked was a rather skillfully contrived piece of baseness; for by the remembrance of his own fete he, for the first time, perceived its inferiority compared with that of Fouquet.
Colbert received back again at Vaux what Fouquet had given him at Fontainebleau, and, as a good financier, returned it with the best possible interest.
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Which set of siblings played by the same person is done best? Just the two of us Aramis John Malkovich Porthos as Gerard Depardieu Gabriel Byrne D'Artagnan Anne Parillaud Christine as Judith Godreche Edward Atterton At the Siege of Cuneo in , Bulonde was concerned about enemy troops arriving from Austria and ordered a hasty withdrawal, leaving behind his munitions and wounded men.
Louis XIV was furious and in another of the letters specifically ordered him "to be conducted to the fortress at Pignerol where he will be locked in a cell and under guard at night, and permitted to walk the battlements during the day with a However, in 17th-century French avec un masque would mean "in a mask".
Some believe that the evidence of the letters means that there is now little need of an alternative explanation for the man in the mask.
Other sources, however, claim that Bulonde's arrest was no secret and was actually published in a newspaper at the time and that he was released after just a few months.
His death is also recorded as happening in , six years after that of the man in the mask. In , revolutionary legislator Pierre Roux-Fazillac stated that the tale of the masked prisoner was an amalgamation of the fates of two separate prisoners, Ercole Antonio Mattioli see below and an imprisoned valet named "Eustache d'Auger".
Lang [12] presented a theory that "Eustache d'Auger" was a prison pseudonym of a man called "Martin", valet of the Huguenot Roux de Marcilly.
After his master's execution in , the valet was taken to France, possibly by abduction. A letter from the French Foreign minister has been found rejecting an offer to arrest Martin: He was simply not important.
Noone [14] pointed out that the minister was concerned Dauger should not communicate, rather than that his face should be concealed.
Later, Saint-Mars elaborated upon instructions that the prisoner should not be seen during transportation. The idea of keeping d'Auger in a velvet mask was Saint-Mars' own, to increase his self-importance.
What d'Auger had seen or done is still a mystery. In , the historian Paul Sonnino provided additional circumstantial evidence to support the idea that the valet Eustache d'Auger was the man in the mask.
Barnes [17] presents James de la Cloche , the alleged illegitimate son of the reluctant Protestant Charles II of England , who would have been his father's secret intermediary with the Catholic court of France.
One of Charles's confirmed illegitimate sons, the Duke of Monmouth , has also been proposed as the man in the mask. The rebellion failed and Monmouth was executed in But in , a writer named Saint-Foix claimed that another man was executed in his place and that Monmouth became the masked prisoner, it being in Louis XIV's interests to assist a fellow Catholic like James who would not necessarily want to kill his own nephew.
Saint-Foix's case was based on unsubstantiated rumors and allegations that Monmouth's execution was faked. Another candidate, much favored in the s, was Fouquet's fellow prisoner Count Ercole Antonio Mattioli or Matthioli.
He was an Italian diplomat who acted on behalf of debt-ridden Charles IV, Duke of Mantua in , in selling Casale , a strategic fortified town near the border with France.
A French occupation would be unpopular, so discretion was essential, but Mattioli leaked the details to France's Spanish enemies, after pocketing his commission once the sale had been concluded, and they made a bid of their own before the French forces could occupy the town.
Mattioli was kidnapped by the French and thrown into nearby Pignerol in April The French took possession of Casale two years later. George Agar Ellis reached the conclusion that Mattioli was the state prisoner commonly called The Iron Mask when he reviewed documents extracted from French archives in the s.
His book, [18] published in English in , was translated into French and published in German historian Wilhelm Broecking came to the same conclusion independently seventy years later.
Robert Chambers ' Book of Days supports the claim and places Matthioli in the Bastille for the last 13 years of his life. Since that time, letters sent by Saint-Mars, which earlier historians missed, indicate that Mattioli was held only at Pignerol and Sainte-Marguerite and was not at Exilles or the Bastille and, therefore, it is argued that he can be discounted.
In his letter to Saint-Mars announcing the imminent arrival of the prisoner who would become the "man in the iron mask," Louvois gave his name as "Eustache Dauger" and historians have found evidence that a "Eustache Dauger" was living in France at the time and was involved in scandalous and embarrassing events involving people in high places known as l'Affaire des Poisons.
His full name was Eustache Dauger de Cavoye. By all accounts, it was a debauched affair of merry-making, with the men involved in all sorts of sordid activities, including attacking a man who claimed to be Cardinal Mazarin 's attorney.
It was also claimed, [ by whom? When news of these events became public, an inquiry was held and the various perpetrators jailed or exiled.
The two men claimed that they had been provoked by the boy, who was drunk, but the fact that the killing took place near a castle where the king was staying meant that this was not a good enough explanation, and as a result, Dauger was forced to resign his commission.
Dauger's mother died shortly afterwards. In her will, written a year previously, she passed over her eldest surviving sons Eustache and Armand, leaving the bulk of the estate to their younger brother Louis.
Eustache was restricted in the amount of money to which he had access, having built up considerable debts, and left with barely enough for "food and upkeep".
In the s, historian Maurice Duvivier linked Eustache Dauger de Cavoye to the Affair of the Poisons , a notorious scandal of — in which people in high places were accused of being involved in black mass and poisonings.
An investigation had been launched, but Louis XIV had instigated a cover-up when it appeared that his mistress Madame de Montespan was involved.
The records show that during the inquiry the investigators were told about a supplier of poisons, a surgeon named Auger, and Duvivier became convinced that Dauger de Cavoye, disinherited and short of money, had become Auger, the supplier of poisons, and subsequently Dauger, the man in the mask.
In a letter sent by Louvois to Saint-Mars shortly after Fouquet's death while in prison with Dauger acting as his valet , the minister adds a note in his own handwriting, asking how Dauger performed certain acts that Saint-Mars had mentioned in a previous correspondence now lost and "how he got the drugs necessary to do so".
Duvivier suggested that Dauger poisoned Fouquet as part of a complex power struggle between Louvois and his rival Colbert.
Sarah Shebl rated it really liked it Jul 01, Auf jeden Fall passt dieser Film sehr gut Filmstarts die Musketiertraditin. Batman 2005 Momentanes Problem beim Laden dieses Menüs. Skip to main content. We don't know when or if this Cale Kalay will be back in stock. Should D'Artagnan keep his promise and protect the headstrong and selfish King Louis or should he do what was right for France and put Philippe on the throne? Added Supernatural Streamen Cart Failed to add an item to cart. Diese Einkaufsfunktion lädt weitere Artikel, wenn die Eingabetaste gedrückt wird. East Dane Designer Men's Fashion. Lemony Snicket – Rätselhafte Ereignisse ist auch ohne den Film zu sehen ein Genuss, der Musik zu lauschen - ich habe sofort die Indianer Heute aus dem Film im Kopf - was mehr kann eine Filmmusik erreichen? A visually gorgeous Netflix Monatlich K�Ndigen stunningly produced version of the. Sue Mackay rated it really liked it Oct 30, There are no discussion topics on this book yet. Amazon Drive Cloud storage from Amazon. Athos, Porthos und Aramis brechen also allein auf. Great movie.
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